


Synergy

by htebazytook



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Desk Sex, First Time, Humor, M/M, Romance, Slash, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 14:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/htebazytook/pseuds/htebazytook
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam, Dean, and Castiel go deep undercover in an office.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Synergy

**Title:** Synergy  
 **Author:** htebazytook  
 **Rating:** NC-17  
 **Warnings:** crack  
 **Disclaimer:** *disclaims*  
 **Pairing:** Dean/Castiel  
 **Summary:** Sam, Dean, and Castiel go deep undercover in an office.

 

_Dude people are stupid_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Yeah welcome to planet earth. You finding anything?_

_Sam Chessler  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Nah system's impossible to hack into. I'm starting to think this demon is possessing Frank_

_This is more stressful than purgatory. I'm going to have to start putting the fear of god into these customers too by the way, no more Mr Nice Telemarketer. That's how Cas is getting so much work done, isn't it_

_that feathered little psycho_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Not really sure how he's doing it. Right now he's just sitting at his cubicle with his hands in his lap staring at the computer._

_Sam Chessler  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Please tell me he stopped wearing the trenchcoat_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Yeah I wish I could man._

_Sam Chessler  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

*

Mr Tyler's pep talk at the weekly floor meeting is going in painful corporate circles. "And as you all know, it's imperative that we get the applications completed as quickly as possible for our clients, so let's make sure that going forward we place a real emphasis on - "

"I don't see why the application is required," Cas sighs, arms folded like a petulant teenager. "It would be faster to read the minds of our customers. And more effective than your insincere suggestions for positive thinking to your employees."

Mr Tyler raises an eyebrow.

Sam laughs, nudging Cas hard. Cas frowns at him. "Yeah, yeah Cas, that'd be a neat trick, huh?" Sam looks around the office, but their coworkers are all holding their breath.

"Yes," Cas says, eyeing Sam. "The manner in which it would expedite workflow could be considered 'neat' . . . "

Mr Tyler looks down his nose at Cas. "I don't appreciate your attitude, Mr Saberhagen. My office after the meeting, please."

Back at Sam's cubicle, Dean can hear Mr Tyler yelling at him through the glass walls of his office. Dean just sits on Sam's desk and facepalms. "Why did we even bring him?"

Sam sighs. "Because he can kill a demon with a touch, and neither of us could get the knife past security."

*

After the tenth aggravating call Dean slams his phone down and takes a walk. He loosens his tie on his way to the break room, passing Sam who is doing his empathetic cajoling routine on the phone like it actually matters that they do a good job here while they're undercover.

Cas is standing in the break room with his hand splayed over the water cooler, a look of intense concentration on his face.

"Hey, uh, watcha doing there?"

Cas doesn't look away. "Blessing the contents of the cooler." Closes his eyes and his hand starts to glow. "Draw out the demon . . . " Cas's tie is still all twisted around, but at least he's left the trenchcoat at his desk. He seems smaller without it, clothes looking so tight compared to the way it usually billows out around him. He looks less alien and more accessible. "Here you go, Dean."

Dean blinks, takes the little cone-shaped cup. The coldness of the water makes Cas's fingers feel hot by contrast when they brush against Dean's. "Huh?"

"You were licking your lips," Cas says, close and not as small as Dean had imagined a minute ago. The line of his shoulders is more visible without the coat. "An indication of thirst."

"Oh yeah. Yeah, thanks." Dean smiles and holds the cup up in a toast (which goes right over Cas's head), downs the whole thing in one gulp. "Ah. Holy, holy, holy, am I right?"

Cas's face does that approaching a smile thing. It's always good to see progress on the humor front with him. "You have . . . never been to church."

"Course I have!"

"To hunt and kill demons, not to worship the Lord."

"Same difference." Dean throws the cup into a trashcan, throws his arm around Cas and leads him out of the break room. "Come on, back to work."

*

Dean is attempting small talk with Cas at the water cooler when he smells sulfur.

"Hallo, boys."

Dean is glad Cas has good reflexes – he chucks his cup at Crowley in an instant, but unfortunately Crowley simply reappears a few feet farther away. None of the office worker zombies in the break room notice.

"Crowley," Cas growls, advancing on him and getting a couple of looks now so Dean pulls him back by his sleeve and laughs it off.

Dean addresses their shifty-eyed coworkers: "Ha, too much coffee, this one! You know how it is . . . "

Cas rounds on Dean. "Coffee plays no part in my grievance with this hellspawn."

"Okay." Dean ushers the both of them into the stairwell.

"Good idea, Dean," Crowley says congenially. "Bit less of an odor of dead end job in here. But what's this? Something missing from this picture, isn't there? Ah yes . . . the moose. Where's he spirited away to this time? Not _another_ tasty demon tart, I hope . . . "

Dean shuts the door. "Sam's not here," he says.

Crowley pulls a sympathetic face. "Oh, Dean. I spotted him towering freakishly above the cubicle walls the minute I walked in. Nice try, though."

"Just cut to the chase."

Crowley holds his hands up. "Always so antagonistic. What have I ever done to you? And Cassie, sweetheart, we really must be more careful, people will talk if you keep ogling me like that."

"Okay, you've got five seconds or Cassie sweetheart is gonna sanctify your ass."

"Is that a fact? Is he your personal guard dog now Dean?"

"You need to shut - "

Cas talks over him, seeming to darken the stairwell: "Explain why you are here, Crowley, or may God do thus and so to me . . . "

"Fine, fine! _Fine_ ," Crowley sneers. Smoothes his suit jacket down and folds his hands. "It seems that we are, once again, working toward the same goal. And instead of continuing to flounder along parallel paths, I suggest that we make our partnership in this matter official."

Dean shakes his head sharply. "Not working with you."

"A symbiotic relationship, " Crowley continues, smarmy as fuck. "You want this demon gone, I want this demon gone. We work together and both parties play nice, everyone's home in time for 'The Voice'."

The door opens to reveal a tiny woman in a yellow cardigan. She smiles politely at the three of them and everyone has to shuffle to make room for her to pass – Crowley takes obvious pleasure in squishing Cas into the wall. 

"So you wanna waste one of your bosom buddies, huh?" Dean peers at him. "What's up with _that_ , Crowley? Don't tell me there's trouble in paradise down there. You know, _again_ . . ."

"We're demons, Dean, we all hate one another," Crowley shrugs. "Never ending cycle, that. In any case the fact remains that I intend to rid the worlds of this particular demon, and you lot are going to help me. That is, unless you'd rather let him go simply to spite me? No? I thought not. Well, then. Ta ta."

*

_We cannot ally ourselves with Crowley._

_Casper Saberhagen  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_You should talk dude_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_:(_

_Casper Saberhagen  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises _

 

_Did you just frowny face me Cas_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises _

 

_It's ok. Sam explained the usage of emoticons to me. ^_^_

_Casper Saberhagen  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Of course he did. Listen I know it's not an ideal situation but what are we going to do? He's here, he's a dick, I got used to it a long time ago. We'll just have to go along with him this time_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_OMG D:_

_Casper Saberhagen  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Cas I know you have a beef with him, so do most people including me, and I fully support seeking vengeance or whatever in the long term, but this isn't the time or the place. We've got a job to do here_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_I appreciate the Pep Talk, Dean. Thank you. <3_

_Casper Saberhagen  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_Please stop_

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

*

Dean insists on walking around the office for the remainder of their lunch break. He is more energetic than Castiel, mainly due to pent up and misdirected energies, so he's in the lead. He takes his tie off completely during breaks and slings it over his shoulder – it dangles from there and settles on the curve of his ass. He must be very uncomfortable in such tight fighting pants.

"Can't stand just sitting around all day, y'know?" Dean grimaces, undoes the top button of his shirt as they walk.

"No, that would be physically impossible." Castiel's thoughts linger on the diversity of Dean's skin, the callouses on his hands and the way it stretched thin over his throat and his razor burned jaw. 

"Shut up, Cas."

They round a corner.

"I just don't get it, man. There were signs. There was _sulfur_. And fucking _Crowley_ 's involved now, and we still can't find this mother."

"Demons do not all manifest themselves in the same way."

"I dunno, maybe he was onto us and smoked out . . . "

Castiel concentrates as they arrive at the elevators. "No, an infernal presence is still in the vicinity. It's difficult to pinpoint."

"Yeah, okay." Dean laughs inexplicably. "Heh, all this walk and talk is like 'The West Wing', eh?"

"Is . . . that different from the east wing?" Castiel had been under the impression A.J. Enterprises encompassed the entire floor of the building.

Dean laughs again, claps Castiel on the shoulder. "One day soon, we're gonna sit you down and watch E! for like a week straight, and hopefully then you'll be a little more pop culture savvy."

It's an impulse - Castiel puts his hand on Dean's shoulder too. Dean makes a face, but Castiel likes the solidness of him under his fingertips. Dean gently shakes him off when the elevator opens. He's silent on the ride up.

*

Dean jerks his thumb at the empty cubicle. "Where's Cas?"

Sam doesn't glance up from his computer screen, gangly body hunching over to stare at it. "I dunno, he took off awhile ago. He needed liquid paper or something I think." Sam's reading a news article.

"So you're just sitting here screwing around on MSN all day?"

"Uh, everyone here does it." Sam minimizes the window. "I'm also cracking the security around employee records and monitoring a massive Google alert for demon omens in the area."

"Yeah okay, you earned your merit badge." Dean goes in search of the supply closet.

It takes a couple of tries and a mop falling on him before he finds Cas behind door number three. He's standing in the little closet, trenchcoat-less and looking like a lost puppy. He looks to Dean. "I . . . don't know what I'm looking for. In my experience paper is a solid."

"You really should come with an instruction manual." Dean squeezes into the closet next to him and plucks the little bottle off the shelf. "It's an expression, or whatever. It's just like white paint."

Cas takes it out of Dean's hand, which is weirdly invasive or intimate or something, so that makes Dean turn around. Cas is really close, half pressed against him. Looking different without his coat and his lips are parted slightly and he needs a shave. 

"Dean. You smell."

"Um . . . sorry?"

Cas closes his eyes and inhales, lids lifting again with reluctance. "You smell good. It's more noticeable in this proximity."

"Okay." Dean scrambles for a joke, but the thing is that Cas smells good too, or at least he smells familiar and if Dean's standing around in closets savoring the scent of angels then he can't really throw stones. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Aftershave. Soap and coffee and that dirty greasy smell from whatever you did to the car this morning."

"Cleaned the sparkplugs."

"Yes." Cas takes Dean's hand, pushes his sleeve up a little and makes the smudge of grime there disappear. "There. Now you are in keeping with the employee handbook's standards for a well groomed personal appearance."

Dean watches Cas's lingering hand. "Awesome . . . "

"I'm interrupting something, aren't I?" Crowley stands smirking in the doorway. Dean leaps away from Cas and is rewarded with a mild concussion and half the office supplies raining down on them.

Cas looks around at the carnage, then down at the liquid paper that has spilled on his pants. "You shot it all over me, Dean."

"Oh dear." Crowley smiles genially. "Seems you are _terribly_ busy, so I'll just leave you to it. Do remember that there's still a job to do here. You know . . . in-between your valiant crusade to come out of the closet?" And he vanishes.

"Fucking demons," Dean mutters, scooping up the crap on the floor and shoving it back on the shelves haphazardly. Cas's body keeps knocking into his as they clean up, and his breath ghosts across Dean's neck one, two, three, four – ugh, fucking angels, too. "Look I gotta go," he barks, feeling claustrophobic as he retreats to his cubicle.

Castiel stands in the closet with the liquid paper in his hand for awhile, forgetting to will away the spill until Sam later points it out.

*

_Come see me in my office when you get a chance, please._

_Ronald Tyler  
Floor Supervisor  
A. J. Enterprises_

 

_I'll be right over._

_Dean Kinkle  
Processor  
A. J. Enterprises_

When Dean opens the office door his appearance is unusually contrite. It's just an act, Castiel knows. Dean is good at acting under some circumstances.

"Uh, Cas? Where's Mr Tyler? Don't tell me I'm getting dragged into your disciplinary challenges, now."

Castiel shakes his head. He makes the blinds on the glass-walled office close. 

Dean raises his eyebrows.

Castiel steps closer to him, leans in to smell his neck. "I like the way you smell, Dean." Feels the firmness of Dean's arms through the dress shirt he always grumbled about having to wear. "And the way you feel." 

Stuck on repeat, Dean asks, "Where's Mr - ?"

"And your voice."

"Cas."

"And that word in particular." Castiel kisses him, careful to be more tentative about it than he had been with Meg because despite Dean's displays of socially conceptualized masculinity this was what his memories showed most often with the half-forgotten women from his past. Dean likes it, too, making a soft sound and moving his mouth in tandem for a long stretch of breathless minutes before pulling back to speak.

"You learn that from the pizza man too?" Dean says, but he says it too quietly to be cocky.

Castiel would rather taste his mouth than let it babble its way to denial. He kisses Dean again, still light but teasing along the seam of his lips until they part. Castiel revels in the warm velvety give of Dean's tongue against his own, licks behind his teeth and it must be ticklish because a muffled laugh passes between them followed by a low groan when Castiel pulls him closer and sucks on Dean's tongue.

Dean's hands grip Castiel's forearms like he's looking for an anchor, then relax along with the tension in his body. He lets Castiel walk him backwards til he's sitting in the chair in front of Mr Tyler's desk, makes their mouths part with a wet little sound. Dean's eyes have stayed closed, overwhelmed, and he toys with the fabric of Castiel's sleeves, complying with a gasp when Castiel tips his head back and leans down to kiss him again. Castiel thinks he might drown in the headiness of the resulting thrill that courses through his body.

Dean's hand in Castiel's hair is rough when it tilts his head, and his tongue is demanding as it dips into Castiel's mouth to battle for dominance. Castiel's focus bounces between Dean's hand sliding to the nape of his neck to hold him still and the taste of him, both making him feel feverish and he _wants_ so desperately to become lost in it . . .

Dean pulls back, shiny-mouthed and breathing heavy. Unstoppably, Castiel says, " _God_." 

Dean quirks an eyebrow at that. "You're too far away." He pulls Castiel closer, urges him down til he's sitting on Dean's lap. Dean makes a pleased sound and bites at Castiel's neck, grinds his hips up and the sharp clash of both sensations makes Castiel's breath hitch. Dean laves his tongue over the spot he'd bitten and kisses across Castiel's jaw before capturing his mouth again. 

Castiel is aroused, he knows that. Feels restless with it. And as if he can read Castiel's mind Dean is working his fly open, palming Castiel's erection through his underwear. He pants into the humid space between their mouths, "You want this so bad, don’t you Cas?"

"Yeah. Yes. _Ah_ . . . "

"Mm." Dean strokes more firmly, leads Castiel into an unhurried kiss. He strokes Castiel's cock at a similarly leisurely pace that makes Castiel squirm with impatience as much as pleasure. When Castiel lets his eyes slide open Dean's are closed, brows knit and light freckles visible across his cheekbones. Castiel is drawn to every aspect of him.

"I want you to fuck me," Castiel tells him.

"Oh really? You even know what that means?"

"It means . . . " Castiel moves back a little to open Dean's pants up too. "You take _this_. You put it in me, fuck me with it, come inside me. Lubricant is used to makes this more pleasurable for both participants."

Dean makes a strangled sound, clears his throat. "You uh, you did some research, huh?"

"Yes," Castiel says, fascinated by the look and feel of Dean's stiffening cock in his hand, pleased with the way Dean's eyes unfocus a little more with every pull. "Mainly in your dreams." 

Dean's throat works for a good minute. "Fuck." He stands, takes Castiel with him and lifts him up, sweeps an impatient arm across the desk to clear it before putting him down on it. He snickers. "I have _always_ wanted to do that."

Castiel twines a leg around Dean to drag him closer, but Dean just grins and steps back to pull Castiel's pants and underwear down, shoes and socks coming off along the way. 

"As I believe I mentioned, we need - "

"Ugh _Cas_ , you're still an angel, right? What's the point of having one around if not for convenience? Mm, _fuck_ , just doing this feels so fucking good though . . . " He's got both of their cocks in his hand and is thrusting subtly into it.

Castiel's breathlessness somewhat lessens his ire: "I am . . . a convenience to you."

"No no, come on I didn't mean it like that." Dean kisses him quiet, then speaks into his ear while his fingers play with Castiel's balls and reach behind and press in: "Ha, I knew you'd use your powers for good. Wow you're tight though . . . "

"You have to put more fingers into my ass to stretch it out. Then, you'll be able fill me up with your cock instead."

Dean groans. "Ridiculous, you're so ridiculous . . ." He slips another finger inside. "You want that, huh? You want me to fill you up with it?"

"Yes." Castiel's body is still adjusting to the intrusion, but more importantly Dean's heart is pounding. "Whatever you want."

Dean kisses him. He curls his fingers experimentally until Castiel clutches at him and bites back a cry because that is _good_. "Yeah, more of that, Cas? Little harder?"

Castiel nods. Dean kisses him again, hungrily now. He fucks Castiel with his fingers and pumps his cock too and kisses him so hard it hurts. Castiel feels compromised by him from every angle. But then again he always feels that way.

Dean gathers the liquid leaking from Castiel's cock and coats his own with it, spits into his hand and adds some of that for good measure. He lifts Castiel's legs up and Castiel wraps them around his hips. Dean scours Castiel's face for cues the entire time he's easing his cock into him, shivers and grips Castiel's hips desperately once he's buried but doesn't move until Castiel nods.

The fullness of it is satisfying, the knowledge that Dean is awash in sensation and aroused and wanting him and _oh_ , just Dean's thoughts _alone_ are so bright and dirty and unchecked . . . "Dean," Castiel says, and then Dean slams against that spot inside him that jolts him with pleasure. " _Dean_ , that's. That's . . . "

"Good? More?" Dean gives a frustrated growl and thrusts harder without waiting for an answer. "Fuck you like this?"

"Fuck me, just fuck me just . . . _ah_ . . . "

Dean's got his hand around Castiel's cock again, jerking it fast while fucking him slow and Castiel seems to both transcend his body and seep into it more fully when he orgasms.

He's barely got his breath back before Dean's kissing him, both hands cupping Cas's face and pressing their mouths together over and over, saying, "Oh fuck, can't believe, _fuck_ . . . " He thrusts sharply another couple of times, rocking Cas on the desk and sending further, gentler waves of pleasure through him, then shudders and stills and pulls out, collapsing into the chair.

Castiel takes in the sight – Dean's pants around his ankles, his button up shirt sticking to him with sweat, breathing hard with his strong arms hanging limply down. The easy, genuine half-grin that lights his face. Castiel's lungs seem to tighten, and he imagines that he'll only be able to breathe deeply enough in the future whenever Dean is looking this way.

*

Crowley should've just gone straight to Sam in the first place.

Sure he's a half-demon manbaby, but he also gets the job done without being distracted by the first pretty pair of wings he sees. He'd exorcised Bohemond and then some, and Crowley didn't have to worry about the bastard's silly little notions of _revolution_ or _casting Crowley into the Lake of Boiling Pitch_ or whatever it was he and his groupies had been so keen on.

"Always delighted to be doing business with you, Sam," Crowley says, extending his hand. 

"When you're not trying to kill us." 

Crowley shrugs. "Details . . . "

Sam glares so forcefully that it's just adorable, like a kitten trying its damndest to apprehend the red dot from a laser pointer but ending up yawning and falling asleep standing up instead. Just bloody pathetic.

Crowley smiles to himself as he walks through the cubicles, straightens his tie out and hums a meandering tune. 

Across the office, Sam is heading for Cas's desk to give them the highlights. Dean leans against the desk, and Cas leans against Dean's knee while they talk.

*


End file.
